


Something Like Euthinasia

by Kasan_Soulblade



Series: Madness Season [3]
Category: Star Foix Command, Star Fox Assault, Star Fox Series
Genre: AU, Alternate Sauria, Canon-esk ending to Assault, Dark!Star Wolf, Fox is younger than canon, Gen, Ideas taken from command, Krystal a Empath, Leon a psychopath, Leon has issues, Light!Star Fox, Peppy is a telepath, Prince Tricky is a brat, and immature, putting them in the same room is a bad idea, when he's a brat towards Fox Wolf approves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one world the war was won, the victors celebrated while it's villains pressed into the service of saviors slinked between security holes between the very stars.</p><p>In another a war was being realized, but it's the wrong enemy, a villain's been supplanted, and they aren't as merciful as the last.</p><p>A distress signal is sent, that much stays true, but when the wrong person answers both worlds meet, and then realize this isn't a meeting between worlds, but of whens and wheres that were never meant to be. </p><p>A star Fox Assault/Command Star fox Adventures cross over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's official we're broke

**Author's Note:**

> To those reading this fic
> 
> Basically this fic comes from a really strange idea that I got while playing Assault. Basically this is my first time running a serious (aka non comedic) time warp piece and one of my earliest attempts at an AU fic for added challenge. To those reading I hope you enjoy, as for me I'm going to see if I can make this idea work.
> 
> Companion pieces (basically character notes/scene ideas ecetera) are written out on the other Madness Season works, sorted by character by not chronological.
> 
> Kasan Soulblade

 

Something like Euthanasia…

Chapter One: It's official, we're broke…

Tapping his fingers in time with the wild riffs of the screaming guitar solo, his typing was if nothing else, constant. He loved the hard sound of human "Rock" loved the smash of drums and howling guitars. The wild rush of untamed sound -that while they tried their hardest, Cornerian rock bands had never quite been able to simulate- made his blood pound between his pointed ears and made his tail slash through the air like a knife.

_Just don't start singing, you don't know what they're really singing about and if Slip's inter-solarsystem specie translator implant kicks in at the wrong time and he hears you singing about.. chickens or something then he'd never let it go._

So he clicked his long tongue against the roof of his mouth in time with the strange human lyrics, and wondered why a bunch of Ape related sentient creatures would dub themselves "bump of chicken". Half of him engrossed in the music, the other half continued to type. Statistic reports were something he could do in his sleep, he'd done enough of them by now, and the information never really changed.

Well except on the money column, he winced as he calculated their losses of yet another day without work. Once upon a time, right after Andross' defeat and the Venom Army's downfall he'd thought nothing of money. They'd made a fortune, it'd last forever...

Well grow up and learn. It cost tons of money to maintain a whip crack fighting force, and when things had become tight and jobs scarce… Well Star Fox had the trained personnel, but precious little more than that nowadays.

Lifting his head, he bared his teeth in small snarl at the shadow that fell over his writing panel. Seeing it was Rob, Fox canned the look and turned snarl into apologetic smile. The now bi-pedual android looked, if the light was just right, rather ape like, even the shadow was somewhat Sapien. Not liking the thought. Images of the long dead Andross drifted into his mind because of it, Fox pushed it aside.

"Hey, Rob, what's up?"

Only a storm of static that ended in a shrill screech was the reply. Wincing, the canine felt his ears slick back against the sound.

"Slippy! Get in here! Rob's breaking up again!-" then to the 'bot. "-I'm sorry man, I can't fix you, but Slip’ will get it done."

A cold hand settled on his shoulder, the robot's long, four fingered paw, closed around his shoulder. It was like ice, Fox wanted to shiver, but he kept that to himself and looked into those bright yellow eyes. Eyes…. Lights…. What they were, well it depended on who you asked. They'd become eyes for him during the last campaign, when defying his circuitry and programming Rob had disconnected himself to the battery system they'd been charging him up at and had crawled -with only his arms to carry him since they hadn't made him legs yet- to the weapons' room and had hacked into the Great Fox's weapon system.

They'd been losing, and that dry voice proclaiming that the Great Fox's cannons were one hundred percent operational and aimed on the Venom armada had been music to everyone's ear.

"S' OK." Fox tried to lift his ears from his skull, by they really didn't want to toe in line. "I'm alright, just got a bit of a headache now. I'm OK though, really."

Nodding, Rob released him. The android turned and the joints in his neck gave out with a sick pop. The robot couldn't bring his head up. The effect was something like a lame zombie movie, save it was a robot, not a dead furless ape. Finally, with an air of mute frustration, Rob reached up with a hand, and straightened his head and neck out. One hand supporting his head, the other hanging limp, the Star Fox android shuffled off to the far side of the room and plugged himself in to a socket in the wall.

Kinda like an oven, really.

Fox's stomach growled and he groaned. The android lifted his head and again those yellow eyes were locked onto him.

"I'm on rations, can't pig out, Slippy's not pigging out, right? Peppy isn't complaining. So I can't either."

Gritting his teeth, ignoring his traitorous stomach, the son of James McCould tried to focus on the report. It was done though, so there wasn't anything to focus on, except the clawing feeling in his gut.

X

"Fox would be _very_ disappointed in you right now."

Hopping like the Toad he was, Slippy shoved his hands behind his back to hide the jar of chocolate cookies. Hints of what he'd been doing –trying to scarf down the whole jar's worth of food in ten seconds- hung around his lipless mouth in the form of telltale crumbs.

"Slippy Toad." Peppy sighed, pushing a drooping ear away from his eyes. He was an old Hare now, in his fifties during the final war (refusing to admit it, but the stark truth was there every morning when he looked in the mirror) and even older now. Still, age didn't take what he was from him, even as the guilt ridden Toad whimpered Peppy tapped his temple. "Did you think you could hide it from me, what you were doing?"

"Kinda stupid... thinking I could hide anything from a telepath, huh?" Slippy sniffled.

"Yes, it was." Peppy crossed his arms in front of his chest. The drooping ear decided to give the ghost of staying up, and fell over an eye. Ignoring it, Peppy's furry face twitched, his whiskers bristled in impatience at Slippy's whining. "Now then..."

"I'm sorry... and I won't do it again?" Slippy hazarded.

"Try again." Peppy glowered, years of having Fox pull stunts under his care had taught Peppy how to glower really well.

"Ummm..." Slippy pulled the cookie jar from behind his back. Peering inside he could see that quite a few remained despite his best efforts. "Wow, there's quite a few left, I should go share them with Fox... and you?"

"Why thank you." Peppy smirked. "I will have one."

"You... you just wanted a cookie!" Slippy flared, his voice going up into the shrill octaves of pure squeakiness, a common occurrence that happened either when he was mad or in danger.

"Just chocolate?" Peppy mumbled, reaching in and pulling out a cookie he sniffed it. "No carrot slices mixed in? Very thoughtless of you, you should consider the tastes of your friends when making treats. When did you bake these anyways?"

Grinning, Slippy waited until Peppy had stuffed a sizable portion of the cookie in his mouth before answering.

"Last month."

X

"You get back here, you evil, disrespectful, little whiper-"

" _Dear Star Log_ ," Fox grumbled what he was writing even as he typed. " _Slippy and Peppy are having yet another fight. I swear Slippy provokes Peppy just to watch the old Hare squirm_."

"I _heard_ that, McCloud!" Peppy roared.

Rolling his eyes, Fox continued to type. " _It's amazing to think that Peppy is actually fifty six and Slipy is twenty one, you'd think there were five and two, the way they go at it.._.."

"You're slowing down old Hare!" Slippy sang, his voice wavering between its customary shrillness and his -strangely- deeper laughter. "Do you need your walker today Pep-"

"Walker nothing! Eat blaster!"

"Ahhh!"

" _I've been putting some SERIOUS thought into spending some of our funds on something strong enough to put me out of my misery. But since the prices of wine keep going up, so I guess I have to endure being sober_."

The sound of laser fire and Slippy's cries grew louder. Cocking his head to the side, considering it, Fox sighed.

" _New rule: when off duty all Star Fox Personnel will turn in their blasters to me_. OK, Rob, close the... oh opps. I'll do it, you're charging up. I got it, just enjoy he power boost."

"Aff...irma...tive..."

Shocked, Fox stopped turning off the main computer and turned to stare at the 'droid.

"Hey, weren't you just broke earli-" Yellow eyes were fixed on him, the expressionless face somehow seemed curled into a smile. "When did you learn how to fix-?"

There was a blast, an even shriller scream on Slippy's part. The ace moaned, put a paw over his eyes, and counted to ten. Old Star Fox saying six, the shriller Slip screams the closer he is to getting shot down. By the sound Slip must be really close to getting shot down. Which meant that Peppy had remembered to put on his glasses this morning, which meant the Hare's aim was going to be as good as ever because those glasses had itty bitty cross hairs sketched into them that followed a gun's path.

"Maaaan." Killing the power with a flick of a switch, Fox plunged the command center of the Great Fox into space like darkness. "Today's going to be a _long_ day."

As if to agree Rob's eyes flickered, and if Fox could have sworn that he knew Slippy hadn't had the money to pay for emotion enhancement circuitry that Rob was trying to laugh at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Something like Euthanasia

Chapter two: Double vision; Two types of bored

"What we need, is _work_. A job, you know _something_ to keep us from going stark raving mad." Fox announced.

Slippy looked up from his new past time of twirling spare bolts, and Peppy lifted an ear. It had fallen into his face again. Even as he pulled it up, its twin's tip began to droop. In about ten minute's time the tip would begin to dip further and further down until it fell into the vet's eye. Which of course would make Peppy grumble, push it up, straighten it… And even as he'd work with the 'faulty ear' its twin would shiver, begin to droop. The process took about half an hour an ear.

What scared Fox was that he'd seen it so many times he' _timed_ it, and every other time he'd watched the event it had come to the exact same time.

That had been one day's entertainment. Peppy looking at them with worried eyes as Slippy handled the timer and Fox had loomed over him, measuring tape in hand so they could calculate the pull of the Great Fox's artificial gravity, the true weight and length of the descending ear.

Their conclusions, Peppy was subconsciously doing it, because the time would have been a lot faster if nature had taken a firmer hand in matters.

"Slip, when's the last time you built something?"

"Well… I've fixed a ton of stuff, the oven, the toaster, the fridge, the Ar-wing's wing after the meteor incident… But I haven't _built_ anything in forever."

"See, that's is my point..."

"Because we don't have the spare parts for me to build anything with, unless..." The amphibian's face brightened. "Could I wreck a room... please Fox, pleeeease?"

The plea hung in the air, so shocked by it that both older pilots gapped at Slippy and couldn't say a thing. Finally, the joy fled Slippy's eyes and he frowned.

" Normal, people don't ask to do that huh? I mean it'd be really stupid. What if I disrupted the air purifier system, or an oxygen transfer tube...?"

"You're going to be OK, I think." Peppy soothed, patting the crestfallen Toad between his raised eyes.

"Alright, I'm calling Pepper, its official, we _need_ a job. I don't care what it is, even if it's janitorial duty at Cornerian Aviation High."

"Help Fox, there's flying T. paper on my tail?" Slippy mumbled, confirming Falco's rumor that he practiced his pathetic battle whines. "Hmm... that doesn't work, does it?"

"You might want to re-think that " _He's OK_ " idea, Peppy."

"Heeey!" Slippy whined, then his wide eyes scrunched up and a smirk found it's way on his face. "Well at least _I_ don't throw darts at a Wolf O'Donel picture so much it looks like swiss cheese."

"I do _not_!" Fox roared. "I stopped doing that after the War, thank you very mu-"

"But you _used_ to do it?" Slippy mocked.

"You... I..."

"Yes, oh great leader of Star Fox?"

Reduced to sputtering, Fox was about ready to pounce on Slippy and -if nothing else- give him a headache inspiring noogie, when Peppy pushed himself to his feet.

"I'll call Pepper, you two just go on and play."

"Play!" Ace and mechanic screamed in unison.

Ignoring them, the aged Hare shuffled out of the room.

X

"What the Hell?" Leaning back in his chair, he cracked open his working eye and heard the mechanical implant hum to life. There was a jolt, a painful span of agony that started from the artificial nerves of his left eye that made jerky red hazed path into the back of his skull. He grunted, waking up once more hating the various worlds and all the peoples in them.

But then that was his usual way of waking up. Lifting a paw, he let his claws rake through his mane, then trace a path around his scarred face so he could better scratch at the steel hued patch of fur that was only a shred lighter than the stuff growing out of the rest of him. Pale Jaw, one of his brother's nick-names for him, one of the nicer ones. Nicer than Runt, his usual nick-name...

Grinning, baring his fangs to the midnight darkness of his private room, Wolf rolled over and began his morning by nearly sliding out of his bed. His claws easily caught the grooves made by a hundred other such "rude" awakenings. Flexing his thick arms, he lifted himself by the tips of his claws out of the cloying warmth and softness of his bed. Secure in his balance, Wolf bent his elbows once, then vaulted off the side of his bed and into the center of his cylinder shaped den. Growling, pleased that his morning ritual was complete, the lupine star commander chuckled to himself.

Runt, heh, he wasn't _that_ anymore. He was Lord. _Lord_ O Donnel. And the fact that he might be attacked any day now and forced out of his territory didn't bother him in the slightest. Sargasso was the tip of the iceberg, the edge of his lands, he'd staked providences in Titania, Macbeth, Venom, and Corneria.

Not that the stuck up hounds of Lylat would ever admit to _that_.

He laughed, tugged his rumpled uniform into a kinda state of straightness, then shrugged. Like he cared what he looked like, so long as the pants were on and Carroso didn't drool. Gods, male or female, so long as it was agile, strong... Wolf shuddered at Panther's lack of preference.

Which reminded him, he'd have to ask how the feline's date with Krystal had gone. If Fox had blown any blood vessels... That was the key point of interest for Wolf, how far Panther had pushed Fox to the edge.

"When you get there McCloud, I'll be there, to push you off that edge." Wolf snarled, reaching in the dark that was half dark half... something else. The dark was twisted into something that his enhanced eye could pierce through with something that wasn't quite true vision, the difference, subtle but there, made his head spin upon awakening. The effect was something like waking up every morning with a hangover. "I'll throw you down to my hell without a shred of remorse." Picking up his blaster, he slung it over his shoulder. Admiring the thickness of the weapon's barrel by touch alone. In the gloom of his base, Wolf O Donnel growled deep in his throat. "Just like your father, instead of him throwing me down though, it’s gunna be the other way around."

Flicking an ear, he was brought aware to the sound that had woken him up in the first place. The hammer and unfleash like rending of metal and steel. So they were still at it? His underlings were still hard at work pealing back the dead Aparoid matter that had mixed like macabre mortar in the walls of his beloved fortress.

"Damn them, damn those bugs, damn Corneria and its flock of blue jays." Wolf growled. He shot the unoffending darkness, and cursed all the more, because for him at least the dark wasn't allowed to be dark anymore.

Damn Corneria, for making it that way.

X

"You're up." Slited eyes flickered, abandoned their mysterious point of focus between the stars outside and settled on him. "Good, the Lizard wants to see you after breakfast."

"It's Leon." Wolf corrected absently. He'd corrected Panther on Leon's name a hundred times, and still the feline insisted on the term "Lizard". Panther was either the bravest idiot born on Macbeth this decade, or the stupidest. Considering Panther's habit of running from affair to torrid affair Wolf would have voted for the latter. "Don't come crying to me when he gouges your eyes with a white hot hook or something for pissing him off."

"He's weak," Panther purred, he pulled off the top of his plate -some stupid rich accessory that he'd made from a busted wing of a scout ship- to reveal his breakfast of choice. Barely singed fish, fresh from Aquas. Wrinkling his snout, Wolf tried not to gag as the smell of raw fish tortured his delicate nostrils. "I could crush him, like so."

Flicking his wrist Panther tossed the cover, then with another hand drew his favorite hand held blaster. In less than an eye blink the metal disintegrated, and the vaporized atoms were tossed around the room.

"You're slow, and bored as hell to be frying plates." Wolf growled, picking up the slab of raw meat he'd chosen for his own meal. "Was last night that bad?"

Panther growled, his claws slid out of their sheathes and scrapped across the slab of metal that was Team Star Wolf's command center/mess hall. Having a mess of scour marks across his part of the table, Wolf wasn't going to whine about a little mutilation. Only Leon whined about the noise from time to time, but then Leon wasn't here, was he?

"She wouldn't sleep with you?"

"She liked the movie, but said she preferred if I'd keep... my not so subconscious desires to myself during the presentation." Panther growled.

"Ouch." Wolf chuckled, and then sank his teeth into the raw meat with a satiated growl.

"She gave me the popcorn and left shortly after the film." Panther twined his claws together, doing an impromptu finger claw tap dance on the table's top. "Although she did make a promising offer… for a future meeting."

"Murmph?"

"Where?" Panther purred, his tail lashed, "Her place, where else?"

Choking, O'Donnel nearly spat up all of his bloody meat. He settled for a hasty swallow, and stared at Panther, his eye that could wide as could be.

"She lives on the Great Fox you jack ass! With _Fox!_ On _Corneria!_ Why don't you just wear a target that says "member of Star Wolf" at a Cornerian shooting ground and be done with it?"

"If he does either, I'd want to watch."

Snarling, Panther threw his dead fish at Leon. The assassin easily ducked out of the way and the second his hand peeled off from the wall his skin and clothes resumed their natural hues. A long surgical knife rested in those delicate hands, with little more than a casual flick, he tossed the knife and Panther fell back in his chair with a shocked cry. The chair toppled, the Feline fell out of it, and only the knife remained. Casting a glance at the knife, Wolf grinned at his friend.

"Good shot."

"Thanks."

Numbly Panther crawled to his feet; he rubbed his neck and shuddered as he realized that the fur by his jugular had been neatly shaved off.

"And for the last time, Leon." Wolf growled, picking up his haunch of meat once more. "We don't have any more prisoners; you killed the last one last week."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about."

Wolf's only reply was a grunt. He easily stripped the flesh off the bone of his meal, and even Panther shuddered and looked away at his leader’s bestial eating habits.

"You're due for another checkup, Wolf."

If nothing else, those words shocked the already shaken Panther more.

"Check up?"

"Hsss," Leon sighed, his lipless mouth pealed back, revealing a mess of tack shaped teeth. "It's none of your concern, _cat_. As you aren't going on the table, just yet."

Panther swallowed, his eyes wide, his cocksure composure blasted away by the hissed assurance that Leon gave him. The threat that was a promise all rolled up in a sheen of sparkling malice. Humored by the by-play between his wildly different subordinates, Wolf continued to eat his breakfast.

He had a strong enough stomach to walk by Leon's 'sport' even after eating a full meal. No matter if Leon got more creative the border he was preceding his "fun time". The real trick wasn't keeping the food down as he listened to the screams and took in the smells and sights of the dying; rather it was keeping the food in his mouth as Leon leered at Panther. And watching the three hundred some pound Feline cringe in terror from a Lizard who was well under a third of his weight


	3. Double Vision; Check ups

Something like Euthanasia

Double Vision; Check ups

It was bloated, the gasses trapped inside made sure of that. Still, even as he reached down and wrapped his gloved paws around the legs of the carrion he had to admit, leaving enough skin on his victim so that the gasses could get trapped... That was totally un-Leon. Long twining fingers wrapped around the thick arms of the corpse, claws easily found a grip in dead pig's underarms. Slited eyes blinked three times, and on the third time Wolf lifted. His half came up easily enough, Leon's end, well the ears (or rather "ear", one had been cut off during a "play session") were dragging on the floor.

Not daring to talk, not until after they were done, Wolf made a mental note to tease Leon about how weak he was. Granted the reptile rarely ate, so frantic and filled with worry. Fear and anxiety boiled under the façade of cool indifference, and the endless mental writhing were so bad Leon couldn't keep what he ate down half the time...

But then, people tweaked in the head generally had problems like that.

To be a member of Star Wolf one of the qualifications was to be on one level or another royally screwed up, but not screwed to the point you couldn't function. Leon hadn't 'quite' hit that point, but then if Wolf hadn't been there… well there was little doubt in the Lupines mind that Leon would have gone to that point long ago.

Strange, how friendship went like that. Both of them covered the others back in a fight, both of them kept them from toppling into their own private hells when off the field.

It was a good system; save that Panther was kinda right. Leon was something of a physical wus.

Jerking his head, he ordered Leon to drop his end, then –mind cringing at the idea he'd have to take another cold shower after this- he scooped the corpse up in both arms.

 _Go ahead_. He ordered, mouthing the words, and trying not to gag as the smell crept into his mouth. Leon flicked his tail then turned on his heel and darted ahead. There was the hiss of a door opening, and Wolf broke into a trot, using his ears to guide him. The pig's bloated stomach was so swollen he didn't have a choice in the matter.

X

"Could you please, put the damned surgical knives that you won't need for this, away?" Wolf whined. Fur dripping, shaking, he sat nude on the long table that reeked of several different types of acidic sterilization treatment.

"Nervous Wolf, you?" Leon hissed; his black pit eyes flicked around two main points of the room. One scanned the various bottles, knives, and scalpels he kept in an innocent looking medicine cabinet, the other was pointedly trying to act like it wasn't fixed on the patient.

"Not really." Wolf growled his eye narrowing. "After all, you bothered to clean up this time and it's only been a week since you're ah… last acquisition died..."

The lid of Leon's eye rose up, slid over the pupil and stuff like it like a grey shawl. Then it slid back down. While most would have found the un-mammalian nature of Leon's blinking creepy, Wolf was used to it. He didn't even shudder anymore when Leon would lick at his eyes, stating that the moisture from his ducts was not sufficient enough to maintain full eye capacity.

"What's wrong then? Your heart rates up, your salvia glands are in overdrive, and you've been… well… prickly lately."

Setting a small hook on the spotless steel table, Leon pulled out a long white cloth out as well a roll of gauze and a bottle of disinfectant.

"I dunno, the fact I'm going to have no drugs for a small surgery in a few minutes, it's the type of knowledge to put a guy on edge."

"Ahh." Leon nodded, both eyes snapped onto the table before him, as if its contents were the most fascinating things in Lylat. "You know though… my actions are not of cruelty, rather prudence. I am… unfamiliar with mammal biology, barely familiar enough with mine to keep myself from falling apart, though _that's_ long overdue."

Wolf grinned, his tail thumped on the side of the table, and he chuckled.

"How old you today Leo, seventy six?"

"Seventy seven." The lizard corrected. He turned, and though his face wasn't built for smiles, the tip of his tail curled slightly, a sign of pleasure. As close to a smile as he was allowed due to the bitch that was evolution and biology.

"Congratulations old snake, you haven't been shot down yet."

"But make this last too long and it'll happen, eh?" Leon hissed, his eyes turning into mere slits.

"Hell right."

Clicking the tip of his tongue against the edges of his fangs, it was as close to a laugh that the lizard was allowed, the vocal cords just weren't built right for a full blown howl.

"I'll make it fast then, straps?"

"Might as well." Wolf sighed, lowering himself against the slightly wet table. He took a deep breath, sucking in the fumes of the familiar room with nose and mouth, and both were burned for his efforts. Flicking an ear, Wolf growled as he heard the metallic chink and smelt leather. "The ones _without_ the barbed wire mixed in, Leo."

There was a string of hisses, the click of tongue against tooth. "Just checking..."

"Na' mmny." Wolf grumbled around the muzzle that Leon jammed into his mouth.

Leon's only reply was a soft hiss, then there was a long silence, and familiar scaled hands settled on his shoulder. Slender fingers teased his neck. They made a winding path up, stroked the fur of his under jaw, and then spread out along the edges of his snout and face. Wolf checked his shudder, and cursed that the eye that he could not control refused to close. Leon loomed over him, teeth bared, tongue flicking between his fangs.

"This will only hurt for a little bit."

Wolf was not comforted, but still he checked his shivers of terror. Leon said it to all of his "patients" legit or otherwise. His soft, sibilant, whisper the only thing they would hear until they died or walked out with a lollipop.

Little wonder most called Leon a sick bastard. Even Wolf, who was Leon's closest friend, had to admit that there were a number of screws lose in that brilliant head.

The Lizard had more screws loose then Wolf had screws in his head. He'd endured that Hell in order to gain back his sight, but Andross had called tit for tat. Wolf hadn't ever asked what Leon had to do to free him from that psycho's med center. When he'd gotten out he had been drugged to the fangs, and had spent the next few months in withdraw from five different types of narcotic.

Knowing Andross though, it had to involve killing, maybe even tortures so profane they sickened Leon.

That might have explained the horror had habituated those dead eyes for almost a year after.

A ghost of that horror glinted in those black eyes now. A claw gently traced the path around the artificial eye that the knife would soon follow.

Wolf had no choice, life had taught him he could trust no other.

"Do it." He growled, the muzzle fouled his words, but Leon recognized the glint in the whole eye.

Leon complied.

X

"Say aww."

Rolling his eyes, Fox did so. He mutely endured the tongue compressor's dry cottony taste against his hyper sensitive tongue. Long ears twitching, Peppy frowned, scratched at the untamed stubble fur that was mixing with the shorter more orderly grey hairs that grew under his chin.

"Clean as a whistle, that covers it, Fox."

"Did you have to test my reflexes? Ya know that test's pure bunk- No… Not the lolly!"

Ignoring him, Peppy fished through the drawer and came up with his two favorite flavors and turned them to the leader of Star Fox. Fox sighed, slicked his ears back and knew that no matter how many times he had to say that he was over twenty, that he didn't _need_ a lolly, Pep was going to give him one anyway.

"Carrot." Fox grumbled, bowing to the inevitable he held out his hand to accept the treat.

"You should try new things, Fox." Peppy scolded, slapping the green one into his adopted son's hand.

"Damn it Peppy, I'm _not_ eating a _broccoli_ _lollipop_."

Peppy's whiskers twitched, the puffy upper jaw jerked sharply to one side, then the other. Knowing the symptoms of Peppy's real anger, Fox sighed.

"Peppy, I'm a carnivore. Foxes are naturally carnivores…"

"Several hundred thousand years have passed since then. I think you're far enough from you ancestor biologically to manage to eat a bite of broccoli." Tossing the depressor into the trash bin labeled "bio and life hazard potential, touch and die, P.H." the Hare crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Now eat."

"If it kills me, I'll whine all day about it."

Peppy chuckled; his old eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"I'll just pull out my hearing aid then, though how you manage to whine from beyond the grave..."

"It'll be loud." Fox growled. "Really really loud, I promise."

"Stop stalling. You're the one who wanted the job so bad that you didn't bother to read the bio-responsibilities and actions guidelines written by the Sauria preservation guild of Corneria. Sauria's a strange place with God knows how many alien microorganisms all itching to give your immune system a run for its money."

"How fun…" Fox sighed, rolling the pop in his hand, considering his odds of Peppy turning around so he could slip it into the trash or something.

"You throw it away and I'll ground you." Peppy warned.

"You mean I can take the LandMaster down instead of the Ar-wing, great!"

"…much easier to punish before he got access LandMasters and Ar-wings…" Peppy grumbled into the hand he put over his face.

Fox mimed throwing the candy into the trash, and Peppy glowered at him. Grinning, Fox slid it into his pocket and waved a paw.

"I'm due down at the docking bay, Slip said he went over the 'Wings and I want to hear his report. See ya, old timer."

"Be careful down there." Peppy called to Fox's retreating back. "My hearts not quite as sturdy as it used to be, so no throwing me too many surprises with this mission, alright McCloud?"

At the absent "sure, whatever" Fox tossed over his shoulder he knew that Fox didn't know, or understand. He was still too young. Far too young to have been the star warrior who defeated Andross, far too young to have endured a war.

He was still an innocent, despite the war and the Hells they'd glimpsed of it from the relative safety and comfort of the Ar-wings, Fox was still a child.

He'd grow up; this solo mission was going to make sure of that. He'd sink or swim all on his own.

Peppy was too old to hold him up anymore. His hands once steady shook with hints of upcoming palsy. He ached, his bones screamed when he stood, he couldn't run or dive for cover, he shouldn't even be on a ship anymore.

The image of Sunny Side Cornerian Retirement Home flashed into his mind, he shuddered. Yes, a lot better to die here with some dignity amongst those who treasured his dubious experience and who he saw as his children.

Yes, was more dignified. More dignified then a blaze of glory, though he'd never admit that to anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Something Like Euthinasia

Double Vision: Immortal

"Shit, what the Hell happened to you, boss?" An ape aide croaked as he passed. Amazing how the monkeys could croak, whine, and howl, wolf like, but not a wolf, not of his pack.

Not that he had a pack anymore. Fault of his father he guessed, who had strongly encouraged fratricide amongst his many heirs to make picking the one who'd inherit the O' Donnel name easier. It had been really stupid to suggest it to the pup, who at the violate age of eight, had tried to rip his younger brother's throat out with his second set of growing fangs. Oh well, Wolf smirked. Second try had turned the trick, granted it had taken him a whole five years to _get_ that second shot.

Remembering the taste of his brother's sweaty unclean neck he grimaced, and a flash of pain ran from eye to brain then flared up and set his whole skull to pounding.

"Leon's check up." Wolf grunted. Throwing himself into his chair and pulling a bottle of whisky he kept in his "commander's desk" there for post checkup treatment.

"I see yer goin', classic today boss."

He pressed the bottle to his flexible lips, suckled against the bottle's top to make the liquor come out faster. He set it down with a grimace.

"Classic?"

"The eyepatch, Sir."

"Oh. That." Wolf waved a hand. "The new eyes under it." He growled setting the booze aside he lifted the patch. Revealing the bloody furless mass of agitated flesh that circled the gapping place where his new electronic eye had been set. It was blue, like the other, only its outer edge had been rimmed in tiny steel plates, giving it a "lookie I've got fake scales" feel. Pulling the lollipop from his vest pocket, Wolf sucked on it, its sweet tangy blood taste making a nice add on to the grainy liquor.

Obviously that was too much for the aide. Shuddering, he said something about leaving his oven on in a strange squeaky ape voice, and bolted. Laughing, Wolf put the patch back in place, and decided to do nothing more than enjoy the chair, his drink, and… his treat. He'd been good, only punched Leon once. That was a record low.

X

It was supposed to be simple, fly in, land. No problem, right? Right.

Wrong, it was becoming a huge problem. Correction, it _was_ a massive problem.

"Slippy!" Fox roared into the com. "Who the hell wrote that the people of Sauria were a non-space technologically advanced people?"

"It was in the report…" Slippy whined.

"Well burn it or something!" Fox snapped. "I've got more enemies on my tail then I want to think about! They've got space ships, and lasers, did I mention they got _hyper la_ … damn it!"

Snarling he punched the accelerator, and thanked whoever was upstairs that he hadn't had much of a breakfast as he pulled a loop de loop. Shaking off the touch of vertigo the mid air loop always gave him, he opened fire. The alien ships made of strange over lapping metallic substance shuddered under the force of his lasers. Whatever armor they had was obviously better then his. The scale like metal only shattered slightly, like a hard skin of ice being stepped on by a firm boot. You'd think that would be enough, the desperate pilots inside would have disengaged to get their vessels to base before all the oxygen was sucked out of them.

But nooo, not these super powered, stronger then thou fighters who obviously didn't _need_ to breathe! They just turned and he had to pull another loop to avoid getting fried.

"Fox, I can come down it you need back-" Slippy began.

"No, stay…"

He twisted the steering rod in his hand, the vessel shuddered and he and the whole ship twisted onto it's side. He pulled back on the rod; his ears brushed against the ceiling as he had to physically stand to fight the gravitational pull of the miles long rock. He barely managed to coast along the edge of the meteor, then it was behind him, and all looked quiet.

"Fox, come in!"

"I'm fine!" He barked, feeling a twinge of guilt for yelling at Peppy. Sighing, he settled into his chair and buckled himself in. "Just a close call… Slip, stay there, you too Peppy, I'll report in when I land."

Then, with a shimmer, the three cloaked rocket firers came into being right in front of him. His systems hummed, to tell him a second _after_ he'd figured it, that he'd been locked on.

"Primitive… riiiight." He grumbled, opening fire before they did, then banking to the right to avoid the return volley. "Blaster not needed, echo-friendly mission… When I land I'm going to give Pepper so much Hell for this."

Provided he landed, that was going to be the trick. Living long enough _to_ land.

X

Being the friend of Wolf O'Donnel had its benefits. All the money ever needed was at his beck and call, the medicines he needed to take (most illegal) everyday were readily on hand, and it was rare when hostages were few and far between. On the level of fulfilling his needs -as twisted as society saw them- Wolf did so very nicely. Still, despite his facade of eternal icy pragmatism, he had to admit it wasn't solely the need to reaffirm his "Lords" wellbeing that had coaxed him out here. He'd come up from his labs, endured the sneered comments of Panther, only for one purpose.

To check up on his friend.

"Not everyone has such... flexible sexual standards, feline." Leon hissed, brushing past the annoyed Carroso. "Go bother one of the apes, I'm sure there hasn't been one that's yet to be traumatized by your blatant show of... base hunger."

Thick clawed hands fell on his shoulder, he allowed himself to be turned and let his eyes narrow to slits in response to being touched. No one, _ever_ touched him.

It was only out of respect for Wolf, the young reckless pup that had saved his life so many years ago, that Leon followed O'Donnel's orders on not killing Carroso. He stared, bored, at the feline's show of what the race that preceded him would have called "machismo". The subtle flexing of muscle that made coupled with the cat's bristled fur made the feline swell to twice his size; it also seemed to swell the cat's head.

And crushed the brains, yes it wasn't wax that seeped out from the felines ears from time to time, but the sad remnants of the cat's intelligence.

To pass the boring interlude of Carroso's not-so-subtle threat and pose session Leon visualized his knife. Properly armed he humored himself by mentally dissecting the large Panther and cutting away each tendon of the arms so that the muscles fell, limp, sagging, worthless masses. He licked his dull teeth in anticipation of that 'session'.

Maybe if Wolf was drunk enough he could ask to discipline Panther, take the lesson "too far", and put the feline down.

After many enjoyable hours passed, of course.

Seeing that Panther was too thick to understand the subtle lizard's boredom, Leon decided it was time to be more... direct. He'd always thought that wandering eyes and a drooping tail were broad enough hints for mammals to grasp. Well, maybe it depended on observational skills of the individual. For the ape aide in the room, one of the sharper ones, took one look at Leon's stance and excused himself. The creeping fashion which the ape retreated told Leon that the ex-Venom mercenary was smart enough to know exactly what Leon was day dreaming about.

Smart monkey, Leon mused lazily. Most of them were very smart, very canny, very adaptable.

Now considered the lowest of the low it seemed ironic that millennia’s ago -if the furless ape named Darwin had been right- Apes had ruled everything. The lesser animals had been the snake, the rodent, the dog, and the like. While the lesser had been capable of spurring furless ape amusement and sentiment, the lesser animals hadn't even been able to talk.

If that was really how things had been -something the long dead Andross had believed and used to fuel the Ape faction of Venom to near suicidal hubris almost a decade ago- then Panther was proof. The varied speices of Lylat were most certainly breaking down into a primal mentality again.

Ah well, the nice things of animals were that they could be trained. And history taught that pain was a very good trainer.

"If you ever touch me again, I will kill you." Leon stated coolly, and the Panther snorted, did not remove the paw he'd put on Leon's shoulder at the end of his "I'm stronger than you" rant. The feline did not lighten the grip despite how Leon squirmed and glared.

Not believing, Panther was too young. Saw himself immortal, all powerful, and he might have said something to that effect had Leon let him.

Reaching up with a claw Leon stroked the felines arm, his mock caress was punctuated by tiny stabs with his prominent clawed digit. He traced the major nerve on the cat's arm, the first jab made the Cat stop mid-sentence and grunt in pain. At the second mocking jab Panther released him, pulled back a meaty paw and unsheathed his claws. The black paw was raised in a melodramatic overhead "I'm going to swipe your vulking head off" pose, and Leon only blinked then reached out with a blood tipped claw. One poke to the chest to rip open the cat's tunic, a slight twist of the plentiful flesh between his thumb and fore finger... and Panther was curled in a ball, screaming. He ran his tongue along his fangs, the sound that issued past his lipless mouth was both a hiss and a dry _clickity click_ of bone being bludgeoned. Leon let out his mirth in these alien sounds, bend down over the prone feline and with teasing pokes and prods, expert twists and jabs, he held the Cat in captivity without need of a cage.

Satisfied, he let out a satiated hiss, and pulled back, the graceful killer had been made graceless, disarmed though still armed with all his natural power. It was a beautiful anti-symmetry. As breathtaking as art. Perfection cast in irony, or perhaps irony. And now to add the final touch.

"Panther, I've gone over your records."

Slit pupil eyes were slowly clearing, as the brain ceased to register pain it slowly mended itself. He watched the shattered remains of pride mend themselves, waited until it was nearly whole and anger could set in. Timing had to be perfect, after all...

"You need a checkup, hsss. Perhaps tomorrow, around noon?"

He hissed to himself, strode by the now shaking pathetic Panther, his tail held high, his teeth serving as a mini percussion section in his mouth.

In the room, alone, he left Panther to stew in his terror and went to check up on Wolf.


	5. Melding

Something like Euthanasia

Unnatural melding  


_It was steady, the ticking of a clock, the winding of a spring. Each step, each parallel, is another twist of the spring. The gears of a brain churning in perpetual overdrive may only grasp the irony of the echoes. Only higher intellects may groap through the either, reach for -and with some fumbling- pull the trigger after tension has reached full capacity._

_Now that the trigger's been pulled, all that can be done is to watch. To observe, in dull stupor, the madness wrought by reflex and greed. We may only watch as the chaos born by the drive for self-preservation tears at the very fabric of the cosmos._

_Scripture translated from a Krazoa Shrine_

"I believe that I'm not the only one… irked by Pigma's betrayal." Leon hissed, his alien eyes turning to mere slits as he considered the three darts that were imbedded into the Pigma picture that had been turned into an impromptu dartboard. Three perfect jugular shots… Not bad, but Leon could do better. He flipped open his small notebook he'd kept strapped to his belt to list his day-to-day activities.

They were done, his slash like check scored through all the boxes for today and two for the tasks set in for tomorrow.

That decided him, and his decision must have been comprehensible to the lupine. Wolf kicked a nearby chair so it slid on its well-oiled wheels towards the lizard. Reaching out with a slender hand, the lizard turned it around, and then slowly set himself into it.

"What, so I have to get the damn darts?" Wolf snarled. "Leon, you're closer."

Leaning back, relishing the softness and the fact he was off his feet for the first time for the day Leon had enough good humor to hiss at his friend as he squirmed around to get more comfortable. Already his tail was winding around the arm, his long toed feet spreading and twisting amongst the mess for steel and wheel that served as the chair's legs.

"You look like a bendy straw gone bad, or one of those soft twisted pretzels." Wolf noted dryly.

"Shut up and get the darts." Leon rasped.

"Fine." Wolf growled, shoving his way out of his chair so that the thing –a victim of similar abuse over the last year or so- nearly tipped in response. "You're the smart one, make a score system while I get the darts."

"I already have." The lizard clicked his teeth together, his black eyes turning to tiny slits as he hissed. "Five for the snout, ten for the mouth and throat… twenty for the eyes."

"Bastard." Wolf growled. "Just had to say that."

"Professional requirement." Leon drawled, cocking his head to the side as his long tongue flicked out as he tasted the air of the captain's quarters. An air that was thick with lupine musk of satisfaction, victory… and the acidic taste of frustration from failure. "Think of it… as a post checkup, checkup."

Whirling on his heel, Wolf made a universally profane gesture with a paw, and Leon only laughed his strange lizard laugh.

"You’re as bad as Panther, sometimes." Leon hissed. His slit eyes glinted with some secret thought. "By the way, how fond are you of the Cat?"

"Not very."

"That's good." Leon hissed, he lolled his head back, sucked his tongue in. He watched Wolf with one eye; the other entertained itself by rolling back and forth to take in the room. "Very good."

X

"God damn it!" Veering off to the side to avoid pancake-dom (Slips term, not his) Fox dodged yet another of the gray asteroids. Lasers placed on the rocks with enough power to shear through his wing, flying ships almost good enough to outclass his Ar-wing, this was absolutely ridiculous. If this was the state of the airspace above Sauria he didn't think he wanted to see the ground.

If things got any worse... He sighed as he ruefully admitted to himself that if things got any worse he wasn't going to live to see the ground. He yet again yelled down the fretting Peppy and Slippy that he was _fine_ , he didn't _need_ back up, everything was going just fine... But truth was, he'd barely avoided the spray of missiles, and when his own lasers had proved ineffective against the enemy launchers, he'd -through a fit of masterfully frantic flying- managed to use his "tail" as a very potent weapon.

Now it was rocks, thank who or whatever was upstairs for that. Just rocks with exuded steady laser beams that cut thought space and tried to cut through him.

"Fox, I've got something on GF's radar!"

"Meaning?" Fox whimpered, knowing damn well what it meant but not wanting to say it.

"Well it _was_ on radar.. but it blasted by so fast... we could barely pick up a scan. I've got ROB on it, but it'll take a minute or two."

"Great..." Flicking an ear, Fox stared at the space in front of him, already the steady black was rippling, inverting, and colors were blooming out of the disturbances. It was impossible, but he could of sworn he heard a click of the enemy launchers shafts sliding open. Staring straight into the face of yet another enemy ship, Fox growled. "Just what I need, more problems..."

"What's the situation?" Peppy asked.

"Ooh... just a teeny tiny bit tense." Fox drawled as he tightened his grip on the Ar-Wing's flight stick. "No problems on your end?"

"None whatsoever." Slippy replied, sound way too bright and chirpy for Fox's taste.

"Must be nice."

X

_Thunk, thunk, thunka, thunk..._

"Three in one eye, fourth up the nose, not too shabby." Wolf grunted, wondering once more at the sadistic bastard he'd called friend's tact. Baring his teeth, clicking his tongue against the bared teeth, Leon laughed. Only years after endless seeming years in the lizards' company taught Wolf what Leon's facial expressions and various sounds meant. Laughing was clicks, screams born of rage were expressed in metallic screeches, the subtler emotions were the blinking of an eye, the flick of a tongue between teeth, a silken hiss... It took time, and inclination to learn Leon. To crack the icy shell and see the brilliant maelstrom of ingenuity, cruelty, hatred, and touch of madness that made up the bulk of Leon's psyche.

Time, and Leon's want. If Leon didn't want you learning what made him tick and you figured it out, he'd gut you if he kinda liked you and do worse if he didn't.

Pulling the pawful of darts off the table -the last four- he tossed them at the board. There was another series of "thunks" and a few loud cracks. Leon's darts fell to the ground, shattered broken bits of wood and metal. Wolf's, still quivering, had taken their place.

"Amazing, yet another magnificent show of dexterity, hand eye coordination, and destructive tendencies."

"No fun without something burning." Wolf admitted with a grin.

"Or breaking, screaming, going clinically insane..." Leon chimed in.

Wolf laughed, even though he knew Leon was being dead serious.

"Game over?" The leader of Star Wolf asked.

"Considering you've just broken half the pieces... I'd say, yes." Snapping one claw against another, Leon extended his hand. "Score card."

Protectively holding the scrap of paper he'd pinned to a sliver of steel, Wolf shook his head.

"It reads I won, fair and square."

Both of Leon's eyes snapped on him then they narrowed.

"Really?"

"Honest."

"You've never been honest." Leon countered.

"Nope, well maybe when I was a pup I had a few slips, but..." Wolf left it hanging.

"What's the excuse this time?" Leon hissed.

"Leadership modification and point award bonus." Wolf told his friend, his steel grey tail started to wag despite himself.

"I'm going to get those darts, and have another round, just to puncture your overinflated ego."

Knowing what that meant, Wolf surged to his feet even as Leon lazily uncoiled himself from the guest chair. It was a race, Wolf managed to hit the door first, bank to the right, and the four darts on his tail hissed through the air where he would have been. There was a scream, some ape had gotten in the cross fire and was pulling the throwing darts out of his arm. Seeing a tail thrashing, pissed, Leon coming at him, the ape dropped his paperwork to the ground and bolted.

If the monkey threw himself over the edge of the massive system of stairway and ledges that made up the heart of Sargasso he wouldn't be the first. Most sane people did that when Leon came after them. It did hell with the numbers of helpers on hand, making more paperwork for the aides to slough through, but the practice weeded out the weaklings, that's for sure.

It also gave the janitors something to do, besides sweep.

X

Snarling, Wolf shoved his way past the dazed looking Panther, surged past his ape underlings, and climbed into his Wolfen. The cockpit hissed open, slid shut, and Wolf was gone in a heartbeat. A rasping hissing Leon swept out from some side door, bloody darts in hand. He charged into the space where the ship once sat and turned on the cringing mess of ape grunts.

"Where the hell is Wolf?"

"Boss went outside." One of the aides whimpered.

"Quaint way to to tranquillize someone." Panther noted, his lips curled back in fastidious distaste at the blood that stained Leon's fingers. "Wolf being coy about having yet another checkup today?"

"Shut up!" Leon hissed, he turned on his heal, hissing and rasping about childish, cheating, dogs.

Lifting a paw to rub at his throbbing temples, wishing his vanity would allow him to do the same with his now churning stomach, Panther turned to the apes around him.

"One of you, go look for a body, the rest of you, get back to work. Wolf wants this place vacated in less than ten Cornerian solor cycles, we're going to make sure it happens."

X

It was stupid, if Leon was pissed Wolf knew that the lizard would just slink around the hanger hunt him down later when he came back. Still... it was good to be flying, good to be away. The space around Sargasso was only filled with dun hued rock, no enemies, no responsibilities...

He liked the last part, even as he hated the powerlessness that state gave him. So it was love and hate relationship, a familiar brew, more bitter than any booze, more soothing than any drugies high. He rolled his paw over the blue screen, streaked his ship by touch alone, then blinked. Movement, something slithering just out of the corner of his eye... He snarled, recognizing the arachnid forum of an Apariod, tilted his wolfen to meet the creature head on...

Then the world shifted, the sky went crazy and up and down screwed each other and twisted his brains inside and out.

He opened eyes he never realized he'd closed... and found his world changed.


	6. A different type of pissing contest

He’d flit from void to battle field when conscience had returned to him.  With a groan he’d cracked open his one eye and winced in pain as the eye that never closed, that never ceased kept the barrage of lights and motion running in his head even when his head wasn’t up to figuring what awake was.

It caused that special type of headache, and he had to leash in the impulse to rip out that fake eye just to make it stop.

Leon’d kill him if he did that, the corrective surgery would be hell, Leon’d make sure of it…

That thought shoved him from sleepy is this a dream to full coherence and with coherence came realization.  And nausea.

And an overpowering sense of cold.

 He was shaking, shaking in place, his belt askew and there was enough ice on him to shatter off and rattle around his toes and the Wolfen’s flooring like dice in the cup.  Thinking of what kind of special hell of a death that’d cause if he hit anything like turbulence with all that shrapnel flying about he scrambled to wake up sluggish controls. Scraping claws against touchscreens, when that turned out to be a waste of time a few corrective thwacks made the ice more plentiful and a new sensation rose to the fore.

Even as the ship tipped and he had to shove one arm up to catch himself least he slide out of his seat and smack his skull against the roof of his own cockpit he swore.

At circumstance, and reality, and the rising urge to piss.

Because, now really, between ice melting against his fur, and the cold of space creeping in, and the battle field he was sort of seeing beyond the edge of vision courtesy of that Cornerian gifted eye.

Really, now wasn’t the time.

Ripping off the seat belt, he stabbed at the controls, and slowly the Wolfen’s interior heated up.

When it was more wet than sharp he started to wrestle with the control stick.  Slush splattered against his legs at his tamer efforts, not helping, and he had to actually unlick his fasteners, ignoring the safety alarms going off he braced one foot against the ships controls,  wrapped both arms around the control stick and pulled. 

The other foot was engaged in the indignity of hopping while numb so that he was keeping pace with the ships spin.  It was a slow spin, highlighted with a sloshing that was not helping a dammed thing, but with a lot of effort, and a dousing he got his ship got pointed right ways up and sort of the right ways around.

Satisfied, he cut the thrusters and waited to warm while a drift. Preset systems clicked on, he lifted his feet even as he pulled soggy straps into place while alarms about floor regulators kicked in.  A hiss and the world outside his cockpit was lost in a sauna of steam, another hiss and the temperature regulators kicked in.  reaching up and back, he pulled the orange monstrosity the that a blind bat could see in a pitch black room and shoveled it over his snout, cracking open his jaws so the breathing bit was in.  A bite down and though musty tasting it was air, a good things because the mist was pulled down then out as a set of tightly controlled vacuums kicked in.

He gave it a minute after he heard the completion chime go off, sitting in space with that orange as orange could be its neon sack slucked over his head before he scratched up his courage and pulled it off.  The tickled of motion against  his fur and whiskers was promise enough, he tried one breath and found the oxygen was good enough for breathing so he bundled the mess back up and tucked it back where it belonged.

Out of sight but not out of mind.

Speaking of looking, looking forward was like looking back. While not a city scape of spired hexagonal monstrosities teaming with insectoid life the glint of shell  on star light and the dep deep wrongness  he felt confirmed… if not everything well it set some suspicions in mind.

Mainly that, like usual, the Cornerian goody two shoes had vulked up a perfectly simple job once again.

Seriously, how hard was an assassination anyway?

Speaking of Cornerian scum his connection line was flashing green, which meant only one thing.

“Well well well, what do we have here, a lost bit of Cornerian scum?”

“Star Wolf!”

The exclamation was about as cliché as the invasion had been.  He’d almost been bored by it all.

Almost.

The inconsistencies though, they were meeting with the present scenario and the wrongness sunk in deeper.  So, because his wolfen was warmed up enough for flight much less star fighting he kicked up his paws and set his boots of the warmest of the heaters and looked the mess over.

And what a mess it was.

Apariod ships flying over.. well his navigator system was shot.  Ice did that to a star ship.  And where the date time reader once stated the times with military precision there was  a line of “x”s.  Something he wasn’t even sure that it could happen much less know the how behind it doing so.  Safely out of range of everything, because all those ships you see were converging on something going forward and down he considered the first fact, the difference between waking here and the there he’d fallen asleep at.

The first, beyond the obvious, was alarming; still he didn’t let that in his tone.

“You forget to set your scrambler up Fox or you so sucky a piolet you couldn’t cough up the credits for another one?”

“Really, really?  I’m in the middle fighting insect things from hell and that’s the first thing you say?  Really?”

“Well God McCloud, you think I’m gunna help or something?”

Leg falling asleep he shifted about a bit jiggling it a little so it’d wake up.  Small blessing the heat was pushing aside certain needs down for a bit. For a while it was only him, watching the lines of light chase after something in the distance, him and the sounds of someone else’s space fight flaring in his ears.

Then, suddenly…

High pitched, whiny, he knew the Toad’s voice anywhere.  “Wait, Fox, what’re you doing? You’re going the wrong way!”

Suddenly the flickers of light were getting a bit closer, and the Aparoid ships that had once been receding were rising, and coming closer.  Oh that bastard, he wasn’t, he wouldn’t…

“Say Wolf.”  Panting, yet voice eerily flat, Fox spoke as if he were reading off a weather report for a planet he wasn’t going to be visiting until sometime next year.  The dispassion raised his hackles even as he slammed his feet down and got to work turning systems back online that were fighting because of the damages they’d taken.  “How’s the Wolfen 2 holding up, after Venom?”

Even years after that stung, and he hit as low below the belt as he could.

“How’s the girlfriend?”

“You’re either delusional or a crazy figment of my adrenaline hyped mind, I’m going with the first.”

Leading the pack in an Arwing that couldn’t have been any newer then the model he’d used during the Cornerian Venom conflict five years ago was Fox McCloud, behind him looked to be half a regimen of Aparoid space fighters and the waving sur-realness of the back most ranks warned of a transformative adaption of some sorts coming up and coming soon.

Then to add insult onto injury the pup had the balls to auto lock on him.

Both the red tinged shine about the Arwing’s blasters and his systems told him that.

“You see I can’t shoot down the second, so I’m going with the first.”

“You wanna scrap so bad in that junk heap, fine, let’s fly.  I’ll kill you, then them, and get the bounty on you both.”

And though alarms blared and it was a jerking sort of lurch that warned of bad things to come, Wolf managed to get the forward thrusters online, and his blasters were if not one hundred percent operational close enough.

“We’re the heroes, you’re the villain, and there is no bounty on my head!”

To that the pup fired, and it came too fast for a system not up to snuff in a lot of ways, save the shot at full blast wasn’t enough to make a dent in his shield.

Sign three, strike three, both were one and the same.  Decision taken he adjusted his sights, pivoted from a mad charge that left McCloud sputtering and looping at his back, and his answering blast sent insects to vaporizing.

“It takes two to make war, pup.”  And to that Wolf set his guns to the right target and opened fire.


End file.
